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Characters: Dee and Sam
Rating: PG, gen
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twelvecolonies,
words: 600ish
Summary: on the algae planet, they have something in common
There's sometimes a strange hum on this miserable planet, but Sam figures it's just the heat getting to him. But he stays on the surface anyway - he likes the solid ground beneath his feet and fresh air, even if it reeks. Galen already made a still and the algae here makes fine ethanol. It tastes like algae sludge, but after the first cup he doesn't taste it anymore.
Cally and Jean are singing some song, trying to get the whole camp involved. He would've sung along, but he catches Apollo slipping away into the dark for his oh-so-secret rendezvous. Do they really think nobody knows?
He finishes his cigarette and decides to take a walk. At least then he won't have to sit there and pretend he doesn't know what's going on, looking like an fool. He glances at the tattoo on his arm and shakes his head. It turns out "forever" lasted until the Cylons came back. Frakking toasters wrecked everything again.
Far enough away that camp is a murmur, he goes to the large rock that's become his thinking place and climbs to the high, flat top. He looks up at the night sky. Those star patterns seem familiar somehow, and the sight of them helps to calm his irritation. He lets out a sigh. Kara kept her promise and came back to him once; he can only hope if he waits long enough, she'll remember to come back again.
A soft footfall makes him turn, for an instant he hopes ... but it's Dee.
Her smile is awkward and filled with the same resignation that he feels. She knows, too -- hell, she knew before he did. It gives them a strange bond, these last few weeks.
"Fancy meeting you here." She holds up a plastic container. "Figured you'd be ready for another round?"
He pats the rock beside him. "Room enough for two. Especially if you have booze."
She scrambles up to join him and pours hooch in his empty cup, then holds out the container. "Five more days and we're out of here."
He clinks his cup to the plastic. "I know after we go, I'll be sorry because I hate that ship, but gods, I can't wait to get the hell off this rock."
"So say we all." They drink, and silence lingers for a few moments, until she murmurs, "Are we going to confront them?"
He nearly drops the cup in his surprise. They never talk about what they have in common, maybe because it would make it too real, but now Dee's bringing it into the open. He wishes she'd kept silent.
But she has a good question, and he considers it for a long time, tipping his head back to look at the stars. Dee waits him out.
"No," he answers finally. "I'm not. When the fleet leaves here, I'm going back to my ship. It's up to her; she goes where she wants. I won't box her in. Not after what those frakkers did to her."
Dee gives a little bitter laugh. "I wish I had that excuse for him, but I don't. I'm going to have to work with him. And I can't keep pretending there's nothing going on. So the only thing to do is end it." She twists the gold band on her finger, but it won't come off, and she sighs. "I guess the good thing out of all this is that I got to know you."
"Likewise. Lieutenant Anastasia Dualla," he says with careful, tipsy enunciation, and salutes her with his cup. "You are a beautiful and intelligent woman and you deserve someone who treats you properly."
"Thank you, and you, too," she tells him and then grins. "Except for the woman part."
"Glad someone noticed," he quips.
"Could hardly miss it," she flirts back, smiling at him. There's a moment of stillness then, where he can't speak. Even half drunk, he knows he could lean over and kiss her, and she'd let him. It's tempting.
But as he decides that he's going to give in, the breeze strengthens, carrying with it that high-pitched hum. It distracts him, and he turns his head trying to place where it's coming from. But it fades away.
"Sam?"
He shakes his head and forces a smile. "Nothing. Thought I heard something."
With the moment of temptation broken, they sit on the top of the rock and finish their drinks in comfortable quiet.
Rating: PG, gen
For
twelvecolonies, words: 600ish
Summary: on the algae planet, they have something in common
There's sometimes a strange hum on this miserable planet, but Sam figures it's just the heat getting to him. But he stays on the surface anyway - he likes the solid ground beneath his feet and fresh air, even if it reeks. Galen already made a still and the algae here makes fine ethanol. It tastes like algae sludge, but after the first cup he doesn't taste it anymore.
Cally and Jean are singing some song, trying to get the whole camp involved. He would've sung along, but he catches Apollo slipping away into the dark for his oh-so-secret rendezvous. Do they really think nobody knows?
He finishes his cigarette and decides to take a walk. At least then he won't have to sit there and pretend he doesn't know what's going on, looking like an fool. He glances at the tattoo on his arm and shakes his head. It turns out "forever" lasted until the Cylons came back. Frakking toasters wrecked everything again.
Far enough away that camp is a murmur, he goes to the large rock that's become his thinking place and climbs to the high, flat top. He looks up at the night sky. Those star patterns seem familiar somehow, and the sight of them helps to calm his irritation. He lets out a sigh. Kara kept her promise and came back to him once; he can only hope if he waits long enough, she'll remember to come back again.
A soft footfall makes him turn, for an instant he hopes ... but it's Dee.
Her smile is awkward and filled with the same resignation that he feels. She knows, too -- hell, she knew before he did. It gives them a strange bond, these last few weeks.
"Fancy meeting you here." She holds up a plastic container. "Figured you'd be ready for another round?"
He pats the rock beside him. "Room enough for two. Especially if you have booze."
She scrambles up to join him and pours hooch in his empty cup, then holds out the container. "Five more days and we're out of here."
He clinks his cup to the plastic. "I know after we go, I'll be sorry because I hate that ship, but gods, I can't wait to get the hell off this rock."
"So say we all." They drink, and silence lingers for a few moments, until she murmurs, "Are we going to confront them?"
He nearly drops the cup in his surprise. They never talk about what they have in common, maybe because it would make it too real, but now Dee's bringing it into the open. He wishes she'd kept silent.
But she has a good question, and he considers it for a long time, tipping his head back to look at the stars. Dee waits him out.
"No," he answers finally. "I'm not. When the fleet leaves here, I'm going back to my ship. It's up to her; she goes where she wants. I won't box her in. Not after what those frakkers did to her."
Dee gives a little bitter laugh. "I wish I had that excuse for him, but I don't. I'm going to have to work with him. And I can't keep pretending there's nothing going on. So the only thing to do is end it." She twists the gold band on her finger, but it won't come off, and she sighs. "I guess the good thing out of all this is that I got to know you."
"Likewise. Lieutenant Anastasia Dualla," he says with careful, tipsy enunciation, and salutes her with his cup. "You are a beautiful and intelligent woman and you deserve someone who treats you properly."
"Thank you, and you, too," she tells him and then grins. "Except for the woman part."
"Glad someone noticed," he quips.
"Could hardly miss it," she flirts back, smiling at him. There's a moment of stillness then, where he can't speak. Even half drunk, he knows he could lean over and kiss her, and she'd let him. It's tempting.
But as he decides that he's going to give in, the breeze strengthens, carrying with it that high-pitched hum. It distracts him, and he turns his head trying to place where it's coming from. But it fades away.
"Sam?"
He shakes his head and forces a smile. "Nothing. Thought I heard something."
With the moment of temptation broken, they sit on the top of the rock and finish their drinks in comfortable quiet.
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